


carry me

by zauberer_sirin



Series: Quick & Dirty [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson is kinda strong okay, Episode Tag, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Missing Scene, POV Alternating, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Coulson shows Daisy he's strong enough to carry her in his arms.





	carry me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterfactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterfactor/gifts).



**i.**

“I have a question,” Daisy says.

Coulson smiles. She always does. It’s one of the best things about her. He makes some mental calculations - the many times he’d be dead if Daisy hadn’t had the right question at the right time, and the boldness to ask it.

He is afraid of her question right now. Not for the first time. He’s afraid that she isn’t as okay with what he’s done as she seems. He could make more excuses - tell her again how he can’t imagine a world without her and wouldn’t let that happen just because she’s so selfless - but in the end Daisy’s feelings on the matter, whatever they are, are the only thing that counts.

She looks at him, there’s still that soft resignation as before, perhaps a little gratitude (Coulson knew it was killing her, the idea of being left behind, even as she was standing her ground back in the future), a little surprise at Coulson’s words. But not anger. Not anymore. Fear, still. Fear of what it might mean that she’s here in the present.

“How did you bring me here?” she asks.

She gestures around. Meaning this room, or the present, or home.

“What do you mean?”

“I was unconscious,” Daisy explains. “My body. How did you drag my body here?”

“Well, we didn’t _drag_ you,” Coulson points out. 

What did she think, that they’d grab her by one boot and pull her along?

“Then-”

“I did,” he tells her. “I brought you here.”

“What, like, carry me in your arms?”

Coulson swallows. When she puts it like that… Shouldn’t he have done that? It didn’t feel like she weighted anything at the time - or rather she felt heavy but like it was his responsibility to carry that weight. It was an incongruous weight, so solid when Daisy sometimes looks so small, and so fragile when Daisy sometimes looks so strong, almost invincible.

“Oh,” Daisy reads his face. “ _How_?”

Coulson crosses his arms, entirely aware it’s a defensive gesture.

“What do you mean, _how_?”

She looks down at her own body.

“I’m not exactly a lightweight,” she says. “And you…”

She gestures again, her hand pointed at Coulson’s arm.

He is offended. “I work out,” he tells her.

Daisy smiles, and his frown disappears. 

“I know,” she says. Her hand stops hovering in the air and drops to actually touch Coulson’s upper arm. For a stupid moment he thinks she might be checking the veracity of his statement. But he shakes the notion and Daisy’s hand just rests there, light and gentle. “Thank you,” she says.

“For what?” Coulson asks.

“For bringing me home,” she replies.

 

**ii.**

“Should we… mmm… take it… to the bed?”

From the corner of her eye Daisy can tell he’s gesturing towards the double bed in the motel room, but his mouth keeps coming back to her, and his body is still pressed against hers against the wall. It gives her an idea.

“Didn't you once tell me, very proudly, that you _work out_?”

Coulson lets out a laugh, laughter falling from his mouth and touching Daisy’s lips.

“What? You want to check? You think I was lying?”

“You claimed you could hold me up,” she says. Her voice becomes lower, dripping with something. Something they both recognize now as desire, lust, or any other cheap paperback word for it. “ _Prove it_.”

The tone of command, the way she knows it leaves him weak in the knees. Which might be counterproductive in this situation, but he recovers easily. Meanwhile she drops and kicks her pants, boots and underwear out of the way.

He holds her against the wall first - not aggressively, but firm enough, he knows that after a mission Daisy tends to like things solid. His other hand between her legs, slow and effective, getting her wet. He’s gentle when he lifts her up and it’s Daisy the one in charge of unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down, just enough.

Then Coulson grabs her hips and lifts her, her shoulder-blades pressed hard against the wall as she balances herself on his hands, and then it’s easy to fall just a little, and fall just a lot, a fall in love with Phil every time. She wraps her arms around his neck to help him, one leg around his waist, Coulson's groans as long as his thrusts.

For a moment Daisy feels like she weighs nothing (when has she ever felt like that?), like she’s suspended in the air, entire heartbeats and entire lifetimes between Coulson’s movements. He draws long breaths in between, and that look of concentration, the wrinkles in his forehead, the lips parted, completely focused on her pleasure.

Oh, okay, you’re taking this seriously, she thinks, burying her face into his neck.

It feels strangely different - it’s not the first time they’ve done it standing (they do have a shower in the bunk), but something about it, the angle the intensity, it’s new. And well, Coulson is awesome _in every way_ , but Daisy has never been the kind of person to whom orgasms come easily, sadly not even with him, but sometimes, sometimes when the gears change, or something deviates from the usual, like today.

Coulson kisses her face - he likes doing that after she’s come.

“Don’t gloat,” she tells him. Warns him really. She says that but she’s smiling.

“But I love gloating,” he replies, rolling his hips very slowly, letting her relax as she draws him deeper. 

Daisy likes it too.

She likes moments like this, the low-hum pleasure of having Coulson moving inside her once she’s already come, clenching around him and clutching onto him, all liquid and needy and content. Content to watch his eyes as he rushes to meet her.

Afterwards she feels her back slip slowly down the wall of the hotel room, and realizes Coulson is gently placing her back down, so gently, like he’s helping a slight flying thing to land, her feet firmly on the floor again. She lets out a short, dry chuckle.

“Okay,” she says, patting his arm. “Okay, I believe you. You _could_ carry me in your arms.”

Immediately he goes to the bed.

“Yes, yes, but I’ll still need a moment here,” he says, chuckling softly and massaging his lower back. Daisy makes a mental note to do that for him in a moment. He’s not the only one in need of recovery. “I wish this place had room service,” he sighs.

“It does have a vending machine,” Daisy points out, grabbing her pants from the floor, going through her pockets before putting them on. “And I have a few one dollar bills.”

Coulson, undressing completely now, and lying across the bed, looking comfortable and a bit sore, smiles.

He opens his mouth.

“Get you something sweet?” Daisy says instead, interrupting.

He nods. 

“Always.”


End file.
